


a study in buttercups

by amatus_jj



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Flowers, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Russian Translation Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 08:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22189360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amatus_jj/pseuds/amatus_jj
Summary: “Why,” he started and then changed his mind. It was stupid. Geralt turned to look at him only to find Jaskier already looking back. “How do you keep finding them?”Jaskier frowned. “Finding what?”“Those flowers. Yellow ones.”“Ah,” Jaskier smiled, laughing a bit. “Well,thoseflowers are buttercups. And how do I find them?” He shrugged. “I think it’s a gift. Oh yes. My natural talent even. I find buttercups everywhere I go.”“I thought your natural talent was pissing everybody off and getting in trouble.”“Oh shut up.”Geralt chuckled.They fell silent. The only thing Geralt could hear was the chirping of crickets in the grass. It wasn’t exactly what he had meant to ask.“Why do you always put them in your hair?”Jaskier shrugged again.“Why not? I love buttercups,” he said simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.Oh.Jaskier. Of course. Geralt should have known.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 85
Kudos: 2085





	1. I - II

**Author's Note:**

> Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian: https://ficbook.net/readfic/8962145

**I.**

Geralt knew it was time to halt the moment Roach started puffing and snorting unhappily.

“We’ll set the camp here.”

“Oh fuck, finally!” Jaskier panted somewhere behind him. There was some rustling and then a sound of something heavy hitting the ground. “I thought we’d never stop. My feet are _killing_ me, just so you know. Told you, I’m not wearing the right type of boots. I mean I _knew_ that witchers are strong and everything, but my god, Geralt.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, his back still to Jaskier.

“You’ll live.”

“Yeah, but at what cost?”

Geralt jumped on the ground and looked around. Everything was green as if it came right from a picture. The trees around them were tall, with thick trunks, and their crowns intertwined high in the sky, hiding them away from the burning sun. No trace of a wind. Around them birds were overlapping each other with different songs, but he couldn’t see them.

Geralt tied up Roach to the nearest tree, smoothing her muzzle. Jaskier mentioned his witcher strength, but it was his horse that did all the walking and climbing while he was just sitting on her back. Roach neighed as if agreeing with his thoughts, buckling her head against his hand. Geralt smiled.

The day was still young - they had another three or four hours before nightfall. It was more than enough time to find them some food. Usually Geralt didn’t stop during the day. He did see better in the dark than any human, but it was still easier to travel with the sun lighting up your road than it was with the moon.

Geralt moved his bag from Roach’s back. He took out his sleeping roll and threw in on the ground; a few coins accidentally fell beside it. He had only ten of them left from the last contract, perhaps twelve to thirteen, if you shake the bag well. They were three days away from the nearest village, and Geralt wasn’t even sure that the villagers would need or even _want_ a help from a witcher. He didn’t expect to be met with bread and salt after everything what happened in Blaviken.

Well, maybe the bard would come in handy this time and agree to sing a couple of his songs. People in taverns loved getting drunk and dance. Perhaps, they could earn enough for one night of good sleep in a bed and a hearty meal.

The sounds of a lute pulled him out of his thoughts.

Jaskier was sitting with his back to a tree. He looked tired, exhausted even. He was still breathing hard from all the walking; probably the only reason why he hadn’t been singing or talking for the past few hours. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop him from playing. Geralt gritted his teeth.

“We’ll need a fire.” Jaskier hummed but didn’t move. “Jaskier?” Geralt tried again, his tone turned more firm. This time the bard looked up. “Go fetch some wood so we don’t worry about it later. I’ll go hunting.”

“Oh, right, yeah, right,” Jaskier quickly set down his lute and got up. “Eh, of course. Sorry. Don't know why I hadn't thought about it myself.”

Just when Jaskier was out of reach to hear him, Geralt sighed. What exactly had he done to deserve this?

It’d been two month and the bard still hadn’t left him. Geralt didn’t know why. Looking at him made it so obvious that Jaskier wasn’t made for traveling on foot and sleeping under the stars. Geralt thought that after a week of constantly living in danger Jaskier would eventually get scared and leave, and Geralt would be back to traveling in blessed silence, but for some reason it did the exact opposite. Sometimes Geralt wondered if Jaskier just lacked the instinct of self-preservation.

‘ _I should leave him in the next tavern I see for his own sake,_ ’ Geralt thought for the umpteenth time. But for some reason it was never working out.

Wandering through the forest, Geralt came across a small lake. A watering place for animals. The hunting went even better than Geralt expected. By the time Jaskier returned, Geralt had brought them four rabbits for supper.

“You won’t believe me what I found!” Jaskier said, excitedly, throwing all the sticks on the ground before Geralt’s feet. He reached into his pockets and held out his palms to show Geralt what it was. Geralt moved closer. “I was on my way back when I came across this bush full of berries! Look at them. So pretty. Now we have a supper _and_ a dessert!”

The berries were indeed beautiful. They were plump, painted bright red. Their only problem was that they were inedible. Geralt frowned.

“Jaskier. Throw them away.”

“What? Why?”

A reasonable answer was already on his lips, but when Geralt looked up at Jaskier, his mouth fell shut. He stared. His frown deepened. Jaskier looked like a confused puppy, but it wasn’t what surprised Geralt.

There was a flower behind his ear that definitely wasn’t there before. It was bright yellow and was standing out against his chestnut hair. Geralt couldn’t remember its name.

He decided not to think much about it.

“They don’t taste like anything but will upset your stomach. I hope you didn’t have any?” Geralt looked at him pointedly. Jaskier shook his head. “Good. Now toss them away.”

Jaskier sighed and threw them all on the ground while Geralt went to gather the wood. It was even more than necessary.

Jaskier sighed, lowering his eyes, and went back to his tree. His shoulders were slumped as he absentmindedly started strumming the lute. The whole image looked… wrong. Geralt couldn't say why he didn't like it. He frowned.

“The wood…,” he started, then fell silent not knowing where he was going with it exactly, “… is nice.”

Jaskier looked up. “Really?”

“Yes. It's... firm. And dry. Will burn nicely. Good job.”

The corners of Jaskier’s lips curved up a little.

“Thank you, Geralt.”

**II.**

The mayor thought it was a monster. Geralt really doubted it.

The signs simply didn’t add up. The victims had been all found dead at the same place, near the abandoned house, the owner of which had died not long time ago. She was a young woman, still without kids or a husband, but with a big heart and a loving soul. She was widely loved and adored by everyone in the village. Or, Geralt thought, _mostly_ everyone. She was found dead a week and a half before their arrival.

Then, a few days later, it was the innkeeper, an old greedy bastard who was known for molesting young girls.

Two more days - a woman who had cheated on her husband with another man who was _also_ found dead the following day.

It all wasn’t a coincidence or an accident. Monsters didn’t pick between honest and false men, they didn’t care about the sins you had or hadn’t done.

But humans did.

So when the mayor mentioned the cruel monster, roaming the streets of their village, Geralt just hummed thoughtfully and frowned.

“You don’t believe it was a monster, don’t you,” Jaskier said the moment they walked out the gates.

“No.”

“Good. Doesn’t seem like it.”

Geralt looked at him with a slightly raised eyebrow. “And why do you think that?”

Jaskier shrugged. “Well, looks more like a revenge for something, doesn’t it. I mean. A guy who was molesting kids? A woman who was found cheating on her husband and then the next victim being her lover with _whom_ she had cheated on her husband? Suspicious, if you ask me.”

Geralt nodded. Jaskier just confirmed what he was thinking himself.

“But what about the first girl? She wasn’t cheating, wasn’t a molester and everyone loved her. Why her?”

Geralt looked at him, curious at his reaction, but Jaskier just shrugged again.

“Bet she wasn’t as innocent as those people believe she was.”

Geralt couldn’t agree more.

It wasn’t the first time he was playing the role of a detective instead of a monster slayer. Nor was it gonna be the last, he was sure of it. No matter how much Geralt hated getting involved into human dirty business and drama, and avoided it like the plague, for some mysterious reason he always found himself in the very centre of it all.

Envious brothers, vengeful princesses, treacherous lovers. You name it.

Sometimes he thought that it was easier for him to understand a monster’s motives than a human’s. Jaskier, however, was always there to explain it to him in all its ugly glory.

Six months had passed since their first meeting in Posada, and Jaskier’s company wasn’t as troublesome as he found it to be in the beginning.

Of course, Jaskier still was the one to usually fill up the silence. And he did, with everything that was on his mind at that moment. He commented on weather and on a road they could be taking, why they should turn left instead of right and how the birds were singing a lot better today than they did two days ago. He told him about his childhood, about his studies, why he decided to play the lute and how he came up with the names for his songs. Sometimes he told him jokes and stories that Geralt genuinely found amusing; his lips would curl in a hint of a smile and he would hum approvingly. Geralt tried to hide them at first, but Jaskier noticed anyway. The bard always seemed in a better mood when it happened.

When his own stories were coming to their eventual ending, he asked questions. And he had _plenty_ of them. At some point Geralt even started categorizing them, depending on what Jaskier wanted to gain from him. Most of the time he just wanted Geralt to open up, so the questions were about his past, present or future. Sometimes they were about the monsters and how to kill them; that meant that Jaskier himself was tired of talking but couldn’t stand the silence so he was grasping the topics that Geralt perhaps would find interesting. If they had a contract to do, then he’d ask about it as much as possible. If Jaskier began commenting about the length of their journey and asking why Geralt decided to pick the longest road of all the roads ever existing in their world, then he simply tried to play on Geralt’s nerves instead of his lute.

However, what Geralt found truly interesting was, that, after getting to know Jaskier a little bit, the bard turned out far from foolish and useless as Geralt thought him to be at first.

Perhaps, he was scared of way too many things and knew shit about fighting, but he was also the same man who repeatedly stood up for Geralt against angry crowds and bloodthirst bandits. He was childish, at times way too naïve and way too trusting. But he was also smart and a quick learner when his heart was truly into it. Sometimes Jaskier would say something or do something, and it would leave Geralt thinking about it all night, contemplating his words and actions over and over again.

Geralt still hadn’t fully gotten used to his company, but it was… okay he would say, even pleasant sometimes. The key word was ‘sometimes’, of course.

The abandoned house was just outside the gates, near the road they came in. It was small and white, hidden in the shadow with the trees and surrounded with the flowers.

The door was in place as were every window. Inside it was dusty and cold - a telltale sign that it hadn’t been used in some time. The bed was made and her clothes were all in the closet. The table was set for two; she was waiting for someone. No claw marks or other trace of a creature. Geralt frowned. Pointless - there was nothing in there.

“What are we looking for again?” Jaskier asked when they walked outside. The sun was high and impossibly warm. Jaskier raise his palm to cover his eyes. “Like, like traces of blood or, or devilish marks, or maybe enchanted stones? What exactly?”

“Anything. Any clue. Anything that may be suspicious.”

“Okay, got it.”

Geralt walked behind the house, then back to the front. He sniffed the air, but nothing felt out of place. He touched his medallion but it wasn’t vibrating either. No trace of magic or any creature, just as he thought. Just another human petty business.

“Oh nice!” Jaskier exclaimed somewhere to his right. Geralt turned and saw him bending down. He quickly made his way towards him.

“What’s that? Did you find something?”

Jaskier looked up and Geralt frowned, immediately understanding what was so exciting.

“Oh no. Just flowers.”

There was a yellow flower behind his ear, the same type of a flower as the one he found all those months ago in the forest. Jaskier flashed him an innocent smile. He looked even more childish this way.

Geralt sighed.

“C’mon, Jaskier. There’s nothing in here. No monsters.”

He turned and headed back to the gates. Jaskier hurried after him.

“So. Does that mean I was right? Just humans being humans?”

Geralt nodded.

“Yeah. Just humans being humans.”


	2. III - IV

**III.**

The time went on and in a blink of an eye a year had passed and then another and again.

Together, they had walked under the burning sun and spent nights looking up at the bright stars. They had been hungry and had been full, had basked in warmth and had been freezeing under heavy rain. They had visited towns and cities, villages and farms, met all kind of people with all kind of stories.

Jaskier’s songs had worked wonders: before, Geralt could have barely make it through the gates without someone commenting on his inhuman looks or devilish eyes, shying away from him like from a disease and locking the doors at the very sign of him. Humans had feared him thinking him a monster yet had been brave enough to throw rocks at his head and curses in his face.

They were no longer afraid of him. Now, he was always greeted with broad smiles and open arms. People in taverns bought him drinks and praised his victories, wanting to hear firsthand about the adventures that inspired so many ballads. Most of the time he let Jaskier handle the conversation; he was way better at storytelling. Geralt was also curious at how much Jaskier would embellish the stories this time. Sometimes Jaskier would exaggerate things way too much and way too obviously just to see for how long Geralt could put up with his bullshit. Sometimes Geralt joined him. The stories turned out pretty bizarre and amusing. The look on the townsfolk's faces was indescribable.

People had also become more willing to ask him for help. The number of contract that were offered to Geralt had increased greatfully.

Elves in the forests, kikimores or drowners near lakes, ‘evil’ sorcerers living outside villages. Werewolves, alghouls and alps, and so much more. For coins Geralt dealt with them all.

It was in the nature of things. It was the reason behind his own existence. 

Because humans had always been afraid of monsters. Of elves and sorcerers, and wizards and of everything they couldn’t understand. Everything that didn’t fit in their definition of normal was automatically bad and had to be gone, Geralt _knew_ that.

It was interesting how after all the life-threatening situations, Jaskier was the only one who decided to stay. Who _choose_ to stay.

It was easier to be alone - the lesson Geralt had learned first by his teachers and then by the life itself. Traveling with him was never safe. Monsters were always luring in the dark, waiting for him, watching him as he watched them back. He couldn’t let himself lose his focus watching after someone else. The only person he needed to look after was himself; everybody else would just slow him down and eventually get him killed.

He needed no one and the last he wanted was someone needing him.

That was what Geralt had been telling himself for many years.

He was wrong.

Traveling with Jaskier was easy. At some point their conversations stopped being so one-sided. Instead of Geralt’s usual grunts and humming, he would answer him with real sentences and they would fall into a casual chitchat for several hours. They shared smiles and secret jokes that no one but them understood. They also argued and bickered about various of things. Geralt found joy in teasing him with silliest things, sometimes making him choke with indignation until Jaskier saw a smug grin on Geralt’s lips. In retaliation, Jaskier could spend hours composing a song about something stupid like falling in love with a kikimore just to get on his nerves. He would also make it as catchy and melodic as possible just to be extra annoying. It always got stuck in Geralt’s head for days.

Sometimes their conversations changed, turning into something much more serious. It was easy to open up and so Geralt did. He told him everything: about Blaviken and Renfri, and how people had feared him no matter how much good he had done for them; how old he was and how small and fragile humans were and how he had stayed the same while many of them had died long before him; how scared and stressed he was because his lifestyle was no fit for a child surprise that was waiting for him in Cintra. Jaskier listened to him with his expression serious as ever, never once interrupting him, and Geralt could feel the weight being lifted from his shoulders. He could breathe deeper and think clearer. He hadn’t realized how much he had been hiding inside and how much it had been dragging him down.

Then there were times when Jaskier was the one who was talking: how his real name was actually Julian and he was a noble born, but his father refused to call him a son because all Jaskier wanted to do was sing and play; about people who used to throw vegetables at him because they didn’t like his voice or because he couldn’t do the same to them and they found it amusing. Geralt would frown and his hands would clench into fists on their own. Jaskier wasn’t a saint, but he didn’t deserve any of that.

Traveling together had become natural. Geralt couldn’t remember the moment when he started ordering two meals instead of one and ask for a room with two beds. He hummed Jaskier’s songs under his breath without even realizing it. Sometimes they parted ways and Geralt found it hard to fall asleep without Jaskier’s soft snoring beside him.

For so many years Geralt had let himself to believe he was a monster that parents told their children about at night. He’d been told again and again that there was nothing human left in him. Just anger and thirst for killing. That he was no more than a monster slayer.

Every day he spent with Jaskier reminded him how to be human again.

✿────✿────✿

The sun was almost set when Geralt decided to finally leave. He gathered the fishing net, frowning at his poor catch. For such a huge lake, it turned out to be pretty pointless - five little fishes were barely enough for them to have a supper. They’d have to travel hungry in the morning as well.

As he was getting closer to their camp, Geralt could make out the sounds of a lute in the distance. Jaskier’d been playing the same melody for the past three days, muttering the lyrics under his nose. The song felt different comparing to his other, usually more catchy and fast ones. A small part of Geralt wanted to ask him about it or even tease him, but he didn’t. The song felt personal. If Jaskier wanted him to hear it, he would have.

By the time he reached the camp, it was already dark. As usual, the fire was alight and their sleeping bags were beside it. Roach was standing with her back towards Geralt, eating.

Jaskier was sitting on a stump, leaning against a tree. The night was warm so his red jacket was lying abandoned on his sleeping bag, leaving him just in his shirt. His eyes were closed as he blindly ran his fingers through the strings. His chestnut hair was tousled, as always, and Geralt wasn’t at all surprised to see a yellow flower hidden between the locks. His heart skipped a beat but Geralt ignored it.

“You liked dryads that much you’re trying to pass like one?”

Jaskier opened his eyes and stopped playing.

“Is it working?”

“Not really.”

“Damn. What gave me away?”

“Not sure. Maybe the fact that dryads are exclusively female.”

Jaskier pointed at him. “You got me there.”

Geralt shook the fishing net slightly before lowering it on the ground.

“Not much today,” Geralt said, heavily sitting beside the fire.

“Mhm? Oh, well. Good thing I didn’t listen to your complaining yesterday and bought that cheese and bread anyway, now isn’t it?” Jaskier raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifted in a small grin.

Geralt looked at him blankly, giving him his best unimpressed look. It only made Jaskier’s smile turn into a smirk.

Together, they gutted and scaled the fish, and then cooked it. He barely had anything in his stomach since the morning. Geralt nearly choked with saliva at the delicious smell.

The meal was gone in a second. The fishes did nothing to satisfy Geralt's hunger, so when Jaskier took out the bread and cheese from his bag, Geralt had to admit out loud that he was wrong. He ignored Jaskier’s smug smile. He also pretended not to notice how his half was much bigger than the one Jaskier had left for himself.

They decided to go to sleep early. Geralt took off his armor, leaving himself in his undershirt. He stretched, causing several joints to creak, and got inside his sleeping bag as Jaskier put out the fire. Around him everything was plunged into darkness, but Geralt could still see perfectly with his mutant eyes. 

Geralt looked up at the sky. It was full of stars. He listened to Jaskier tossing and turning for another few seconds, trying to find a comfortable position in his own sleeping bag, before he finally sighed contentedly and everything fell silent.

A few minutes went by. Geralt was still awake, thinking. 

“Jaskier?” he said quietly. He wondered if Jaskier had already fallen asleep. It’d been a long day.

“Yeah?”

He hadn’t. Geralt pondered if he should ask him the question or not.

“Why,” he started and then changed his mind. It was stupid. Geralt turned to look at him only to find Jaskier already looking back. “How do you keep finding them?”

Jaskier frowned. “Finding what?”

“Those flowers. Yellow ones.”

“Ah,” Jaskier smiled, laughing a bit. “Well, _those_ flowers are buttercups. And how do I find them?” He shrugged. “I think it’s a gift. Oh yes. My natural talent even. I find buttercups everywhere I go.”

“I thought your natural talent was pissing everybody off and getting in trouble.”

“Oh shut up.”

Geralt chuckled.

They fell silent. The only thing Geralt could hear was the chirping of crickets in the grass. It wasn’t exactly what he had meant to ask.

“Why do you always put them in your hair?”

Jaskier shrugged again.

“Why not? I love buttercups,” he said simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Oh. _Jaskier_. Of course. Geralt should have known.

**IV.**

It was already dark when they finally reached Vizima’s gates. The first thing Geralt did was rented them a room.

The innkeeper recognized them, thanks to Jaskier’s songs. She ordered to bring them both meals before either of them had a chance to speak. It was the best food and the best sleep Geralt had had in a while.

The next day he asked her about a work for a witcher.

“Oh no, dear, nothing of that sort, thanks Melitele,” she said cheerfully. “Your band, however, your _bard_ can earn you some.”

Jaskier immediately perked up.

For the last few weeks that they had been on the road Jaskier’s only audience were Geralt and Roach, and like any bard Jaskier craved opinions. Geralt wasn’t a connoisseur of art. In fact, he didn’t know shit about it. He didn’t know which word rhymed better or which melody seemed more fitting. When Jaskier asked him about his songs the only opinion Geralt had was ‘good’ or ‘Jaskier, stop exaggerating, that wasn’t how it happened at all and you _know it’_.

Roach wasn’t particularly talkative either. She liked to keep all her thoughts to herself.

Sometimes they were also joined by wild animals or monsters, who heard the sound of lute and decided to follow it. Thanks to Geralt those didn’t stay for long to voice _their_ opinions on the songs.

But that was exactly what Jaskier missed.

He missed performing.

So Geralt didn’t stop him.

Geralt stood away from the crowd, hidden in the shadows, and watched him, both enjoying the show and keeping an eye on him. Jaskier danced gracefully, spinning and jumping from one place to another while flawlessly singing and playing the lute at the same time. His dancing kind of reminded Geralt of his own ‘dancing’ around monsters, though he could bet he wasn’t as graceful.

Jaskier was singing his new songs. Geralt recognized some of them. He remembered those nights when Jaskier was nose deep into his journal, mumbling to himself and barely talking. Once, Geralt would have given anything if that meant that Jaskier would be silent for at least 5 minutes. Now the silence almost seemed alien to him.

One song gave way to another, and so it went on. More people came to listen and soon enough the whole street was clapping to the rhythm and trying to sing along. Jaskier’s smile never faltered. Geralt wondered if he could still feel his face; his cheeks must be hurting from all the smiling.

But it was exactly how Jaskier was and imaging him someone else simply felt wrong. He loved being the centre of attention, he loved feeling appreciated. He couldn’t live without performing and singing to him was as natural as it was breathing. When Geralt thought about Jaskier, he couldn’t imagine him without his lute or his extravagant clothes.

He adored people and could spent hours around them just talking or joking or drinking. They thought him silly but Jaskier could easily talk them into doing bizarre things without them even realizing it; Geralt knew this from his own experience.

His emotions were always written all over his face no matter how hard he tried to hide them. To Geralt he was like an open book, but maybe Geralt was so used to him by now and simply learned all his little things.

A lot of people couldn’t understand how the two of them clicked. Geralt used to do the same. He stopped wondering a long time ago.

Jaskier was Geralt’s complete opposite, but it was the exact reason why they fit so nicely.

When Jaskier finished playing his last song and the lute uttered its the final chord, people burst into applause. Jaskier bowed, smiling widely as they kept cheering for him. Geralt’s heart swelled with pride as he couldn’t keep back his own smile.

A girl, no more than 6 or 7, ran up to Jaskier and handed him something. Geralt looked closely, trying to make out what it was. It was a yellow wreath and, judging by Jaskier’s delighted look, it was full of buttercups. Geralt shook his head fondly.

Jaskier crouched, letting the girl put it on his head. He laughed when the wreath fell a bit and covered his eyes. Geralt swallowed as he felt fluttering in his stomach.

Falling in love with Jaskier was easy. He was smart and beautiful, and what Geralt first thought annoying, now he found charming. He was the only one brave enough to approach the infamous Butcher of Blaviken and glue himself to his side. Geralt had been rude and had been sharp, he’d made his distaste obvious and had denied their friendship more than once. But no matter what Geralt had done, how much of a dick he had been in the past, Jaskier stayed. He accepted Geralt’s grunts and the lack of manners with understanding and humor. He had a map to all of Geralt’s flaws and imperfections, but never once abused that power.

Together, they had been through everything: through the bad and through the good. People came in and went out of Geralt’s life, but Jaskier was the only one there for him. He cleaned his wounds and helped him bandage them; he collected herbs for Geralt’s elixirs and composed songs in his name without asking anything in return. Once, he had spent his own money to buy Geralt a new sword after his own had been stolen without even batting an eye; Geralt didn't have the heart to tell him that the sword had been shit and he'd sold it as soon as he'd got the chance. It was the thought that counted.

Geralt learned to trust him and respect him and he knew that Jaskier trusted and respected him back.

Jaskier knew who and what Geralt was: a mutant, a monster slayer and a killer.

And Geralt knew everything about Jaskier: he was a human and a bard, who couldn’t hold a sword in his hand but would throw fists with anyone who would even think about insulting Geralt.

They were different in every way. But they were also equal and nothing would ever change that.

Later, that evening, Jaskier was still drunk on his performance and they both were also a little drunk on ale, and they stumbled in their room for the night, when Jaskier asked him:

“So,” he said, taking off his jacket and throwing it on the bed beside his lute, “what do you think about my singing now? Still think it was a pie without a filling?”

“Mhm, it was okay.”

“ _Just_ okay?”

“Not that bad.” Jaskier gapped at him, pretending to be offended. Geralt tried to keep his face blank. “The dancing was nice, not gonna lie.”

Jaskier’s face broke into a sly smile.

“Mhm. How interesting. So you liked my dancing?” Jaskier moved closer. His steps were a bit sloppy. “How nice was it exactly?”

Geralt’s heart speed up and he willed it to stay calm.

At some point their jokes and comments took a different turn and their touches would linger more than it was necessary. More than once Geralt caught Jaskier watching him and immediately Jaskier’s cheeks would turn red and he would swiftly look away or make an excuse to leave somewhere. He noticed how Jaskier never looked directly at him when they were together taking a bath in a river or in a lake, and Geralt could hear how his heart was always beating faster when they were standing too close to each other.

But it never went further than that.

He knew Jaskier wasn’t oblivious to Geralt’s feelings. Jaskier was far more observant than people thought him to be. Somehow they both knew the attraction was mutual, but none of them were making any steps.

Because love is scary and loving someone with Geralt’s lifestyle was even scarier.

Jaskier was Geralt’s only true friend and he was afraid of losing him in any way. Jaskier didn’t push it, but Geralt could taste his frustration.

“I can dance some more,” Jaskier whispered lowly. The light coming through the window reflected in his eyes. They quickly slid from Geralt’s to his lips and back up. “Just for you this time. Do you want it?”

Jaskier took another step, leaving little space between them. Geralt could hear a note of alcohol in his breath and the smell of buttercups that were still in Jaskier’s hair. He could feel the heat that radiated from his body and Geralt's hands twitched at his sides, wanting to reach out and touch him.

Geralt’s heart pounded as Jaskier put a hand on his chest and slowly moved it higher, to his shoulder and cupped his neck. His touch was light and it sent goosebumps down Geralt’s arms. Jaskier wasn’t pushing him into anything but he wasn’t making it easy for him either.

The distance that remained between them was Geralt’s to close. Jaskier was giving him a choice to make: to move further or to step aside. He wanted to close this distance, to pull Jaskier closer and kiss him until they both were breathless. He wanted to hold him in his arms, wanted to feel Jaskier’s hands around his waist, in his hair, on his cheecks. Geralt wanted to see him throw his head back as a cry of pleasure leaves his lips.

It was his step and he could make it if he wanted to, close this last remaining distance. And Gods only knew how much he wanted to.

“Nice flowers,” Geralt said instead, gesturing to his hair. “You’re gonna sleep with them?”

Jaskier froze.

“What?” He blinked, confused. He raised his hand to his hair and frowned when his hand touched the wreath. “Oh shit, I forgot about it.”

The flowers didn’t look that fresh and beautiful as they did in the afternoon. It was a miracle they were still intact. When Jaskier moved the wreath away, Geralt noticed that a few flowers fell out and got stuck in his hair. Without thinking he raised his hand and ran it through Jaskier’s hair. It was soft to touch like silk.

Their eyes met and time seemed frozen. They were so close, all Geralt needed to do was make that small step towards him. One step to kiss him, one step to hold him and never let go.

As if readying his mind, Jaskier’s gaze moved down to Geralt’s lips and then back up as if saying ‘ _do it_ ’.

Geralt coughed awkwardly and moved back. He held out his hand to Jaskier to show him a few yellow flowers.

“You, uhh… They got stuck.” Geralt mentally grimaced at how ridiculous he sounded.

“Oh,” Jaskier breathed out, disappointment as clear on his face as a day. He moved his hand away and the skin on Geralt’s neck immediately felt cold. Geralt’s heart beat painfully in his chest. “Of course. Thank you, Geralt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS!!!!! Thank you SO FREAKING MUCH for all the kudos and comments you've left!!!! They meant so so so much and motivated me A LOT so thank you
> 
> I really enjoyed writing the part when they were both already obviously in love so I'm really excited about the next chapter!!
> 
> As always, I hope you liked it and please leave comment/kudos if you did xx  
> Let me know what you think!


	3. V - VI

**V.**

“I think I’ve left my lute downstairs.”

“Jaskier-“

“No, Geralt, I, I can’t, I just can’t _leave_ her- I need- I’ll be right back.”

Geralt barely had time to utter Jaskier’s name before the door fell shut behind him.

He was alone.

Geralt closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. For a long while he just stood there, slowly breathing in and out. Jaskier’s pained expression seemed to sink into his mind and that was the only thing he could see behind his closed eyelids. In the quiet of the room Jaskier’s broken voice was still ringing in his ears. Geralt’s chest echoed with dull ache.

Their intentions had taken a different path a long time ago, but there was always an invisible line between them. The line none of them dared to cross. Right until now when they almost did.

This night was the closest they had ever come to breaking every unspoken rule between them.

And Geralt had messed it up.

Perhaps that was the real reason why witchers always traveled alone never taking no wives nor husbands, never fathering any children. Why their lifes were destined to be lonely and sad, and angry just like the monsters they were fighting day and night.

Because no matter what their true intentions may be, no matter if they had anything good left inside their souls, they were still monsters who broke anything and everything their hand ever touched. And no amount of silly songs would ever change that.

Geralt opened his eyes. He didn't know how much time had passed. Their room was just as quiet as before. The moon was throwing silver glances through their window. Jaskier’s buttercups that were still squeezed in Geralt’s hand now looked more like a bunch of petals and leaves rather than the flowers they once were. Geralt watched them as they slowly swirled before falling on the ground.

That night Geralt laid awake until the sun began to appear on the horizon.

The lute was lying on the bed.

That night Jaskier did not come back.

✿────✿────✿

He saw Jaskier in the morning.

“Geralt! Good morning,” Jaskier smiled, saluting him with his cup. “Slept well I hope?”

Geralt slowly sat across from him, his eyes skimmed over Jaskier’s face. He didn’t smell blood on him neither could see any injures. His clothes were completely intact, but rumpled; just like Jaskier himself. He smiled at Geralt but his smile was forced and fake. His skin seemed even paler than usual, and his normally bright blue eyes were red and dull. The fork shook slightly in his hand.

Geralt narrowed his eyes.

“I’d have ordered for you too, but I didn’t know when you’d wake up. Didn’t want you eat a cold breakfast and everything. Oh, listen, you’ll _love_ it — today they have lamb for breakfast and fresh beer, so-”

“You didn’t come back last night,” Geralt interrupted him, trying to keep his tone calm but failing nevertheless. Even to his own ears he sounded accusing.

Jaskier slowly blinked at him.

“Oh yes, sorry. I was trying to find my lute.”

“It was lying on your bed.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened slightly, before he let out a nervous laughter. He quickly took a sip from his cup.

“Oh, now I see _why_ I couldn’t find it anywhere! I was so worried! Thought someone stole it. Thank God it was safe with you, my friend. Was already counting all the coins we have left. Good instruments are never cheap, unfortunately.”

“Why didn’t you come back then?”

“Uh, I didn’t want to disturb your beauty sleep?”

Geralt pursed his lips. “I was worried.”

Jaskier looked away.

“Sorry,” he said in a small voice, “didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Never do that again. Don’t… disappear.”

“Okay.”

The waitress came with Geralt’s order. They didn’t talk for the remaining of breakfast. Geralt didn’t comment on Jaskier falling asleep the moment his head touched the pillow.

✿────✿────✿

Geralt liked to think that in his years of traveling with Jaskier he had grown to know him like the back of his own hand.

Jaskier was always vocal about what he liked and _especially_ what he _dis_ liked. When he was happy his whole face would light up like the sun in the sky. His eyes would literally twinkle with delight every time something amusing happened around him or came to his mind. He was babbling non-stop when he was nervous or scared, and as silent as a fish when angry or in pain.

So Geralt prepared himself mentally for the questions to come.

The situation wasn’t like… anything before. It wasn’t like their not-so-accidental touches and stolen glances. Never before they had been this close to kissing one another. Had Geralt not ruined the moment, had he not over think everything way too much, they would have kissed that night; probably even more than that. No one could ignore something like that, especially not Jaskier. He’d start asking questions as soon as he had a convenient and inconvenient opportunity, Geralt knew that.

Geralt _knew_ Jaskier. He rehearsed all possible scenarios in his head and prepared all the answers to every possible question.

He was ready and he was waiting.

Except the conversation never came.

A week had passed and Jaskier still hadn't mentioned anything.

✿────✿────✿

The troll howled loudly in pain as Geralt pierced his stone hard skin with his silver sword. He blindly swung his arm, trying to hit Geralt back, but his vision was already failing him. His body swayed and his legs buckled under his weight, before finally falling to the ground.

The earth shuddered beneath Geralt’s feet. The birds cried out and flew away. Geralt watched the troll for a few more seconds, fingers tightly gripping the handle of his sword, but the body remained to lie still.

Finally, Geralt allowed himself to relax.

He could still hear blood poundingin his ears. Geralt took a deep breath and immediately winced as a piercing pain shot up his right side. A broken rib or two; hopefully his lungs were not affected. He should have brought more elixirs.

It was a stupid and dangerous idea. Trolls were sluggish, but strong and surprisingly accurate when throwing huge rocks. Going against one was insane and Geralt definitely should have thought twice before agreeing with the village headman and taking this contract. He could already picture Jaskier’s furious face and hear all the colorful words and curses that would fly Geralt’s way as soon as those blue eyes see the state of him.

Geralt bent down to the troll’s face, gritting his teeth as his wounds reminded him again of their existence. The headman seemed like the slippery type with all his forced smiles and big talks about riches. Geralt didn’t believe that he wouldn’t try to run away from his promises so he pulled out a knife and cut the troll’s tongue out as evidence for his job being done. If the headman wouldn’t want to take the tongue as a trophy, then local alchemists would always gladly buy it for their potions.

Although it was just a little after noon, it was as dark around him as in the early evening. The sky had been obscured by angry grey clouds, safely keeping the sun behind them for the past three days. Around him, the wind started rising. The air smelled of rain.

Geralt wrapped up the tongue in several leaves he found lying on the ground, and put it in his bag. He wished Roach had been there with him, but he had left her with Jaskier back in the village despite Jaskier’s complains and promises to behave; promises they both knew Jaskier would have broken anyway and Geralt couldn’t risk it. Going against a troll was already insane, but going against one with Jaskier hiding somewhere nearby was completely mental. Had Jaskier been here and had the troll grown tired of Geralt, Jaskier for sure would have been his next target.

Apart from his heavy breathing and the rustling of leaves, everything was silent. The forest and the bridge under which the troll had settled was only half an hour away from the village but with his injures it’d take twice as long to get there. He had thought that taking a contract would keep the thoughts away, but without any visible threat one by one they rushed right back. He wished Jaskier had been there to distract him.

All previous week every time Jaskier had let out a sigh or opened his mouth to speak, Geralt had been ready. He had expected anything: a great good deal of questions, long loud speeches or simply several days of avoidance.

What he had _not_ expected was a complete disregard of the situation.

Jaskier was pretending like nothing had happened. Apart from his disappearance that night to who knew where and his apparent lack of sleep in the morning, nothing strange had been going on ever since. Jaskier was acting the same as always. He was cracking jokes and making up the stories about their adventures to anyone willing to listen. On the road he was whistling melodies under his breath, new and old, and asking for Geralt's opinions just like he always would. When he was tired of talking, he was filling up the silence with his soft singing or playing because for some reason Jaskier and silence could never get along.

And Geralt should be happy, shouldn’t he? He should be happy because Jaskier was saving him from having a long deep conversation about feelings, the topic that Geralt hated more than rich power-hungry lords and ladies, and avoided at all costs. Geralt should be thanking him, happily carrying on with his monster hunting life.

Except it was driving Geralt up the wall.

Because every time Geralt saw him, it reminded him of that damn evening. The way light had reflected in Jaskier's impossibly blue eyes and how he had looked at him like Geralt had hung the moon and the stars in the sky. He could still feel the softness of Jaskier's hair under his fingers, the heat from his closeness. Geralt's heartbeat was slow but it sped up every time he imagined himself back in the room and Jaskier's hands on his body. He couldn't help but wonder what would have happened had he not been an idiot and crossed the distance between them.

What kind of kiss they would have shared? Heated, full of passion and long-awaited? Or, perhaps, soft and tender, interrupted only by their smiles?

How far they would have gone had they been given a chance? Would have they just kissed or gone further than that? Geralt could easily imagine Jaskier’s waist and hips under his hands. His legs were spread wide enough for Geralt to fit perfectly between them and his head was thrown back in pleasure. The melodic voice Jaskier was so proud of singing and moaning just for Geralt to hear.

But after each good memory and fantasy more sorrowful thoughts took their place instead.

Because every time Geralt saw him, he was also reminded of red tired eyes and sleepless night. Jaskier's face full of deep hurt and disappointment had imprinted itself in his mind. Geralt wished to never see this look on him ever again.

Jaskier had been avoiding the topic, without doubt thinking he was doing both of them a favor, but Geralt himself was dying to talk about it.

He just didn’t know the right way to start the conversation without looking like a complete idiot. Geralt wasn't fond of delicate topics, he never knew what was expected from him. _Feelings_ were never something Geralt had been taught during his training. He was a man of action when Jaskier was the master of diplomacy and big fancy words. After all he was a poet.

Feelings came natural for Jaskier. He was a _human_.

They were not that natural for Geralt.

It was wildly known among folk that witchers didn't feel anything other than bloodlust and anger. People from villages to towns would spread the tales about their stone-like hearts and eyes as cold and lifeless as ice. _No better than a wild animal_ , they would whisper to themselves.

For most of his life the tales had served Geralt just fine. For a long time he had let himself believe them to be true.

It felt like a lifetime ago. He could no longer pretend to be heartless.

Not when his affection for Jaskier was obvious to anyone who paid them at least a little bit of attention.

Not when he was sick with worry about princess Cirilla, his child surprise he hadn’t even met yet, when the war with Nilfgaard was on their doorstep.

Not when Yennefer was kind enough to remind him every time she saw him of his stupid reckless wish he had made to save the power-hungry witch all those years ago.

Not when Geralt stopped finding humans that annoying after they were no longer afraid of him and genuinely were looking for his help.

That didn't change the fact what his lifestyle was. It was a wild swirl of danger and blood, the never-ending hunt. He never knew what was waiting for him around the corner or past the tree line. Was it another werewolf or striga? Or, maybe, a human kind of monster this time?

Who is their right mind would want to spend their life like that?

But the answer was already there. 

Jaskier.

Jaskier would.

He'd already chosen that way.

Then what was stopping Geralt now? Jaskier had already put himself in danger the moment he started travelling with him. What difference would it make? 

Geralt grunted and frowned. Killing monsters were easier than sorting out his feelings. If only Destiny was kind to him and showed him a sign.

The woods abruptly stopped. Somewhere between his self-loathing and confusion, Geralt had turned the wrong way and walked through another entrance. A smile tugged at his lips.

If it wasn't truly a sign from Destiny than he didn't know what it was.

✿────✿────✿

"So. Where are we going again?" 

"You'll see."

"Oh, a mystery! I _love_ a good mystery. It's just a bit, you know, uh, nerve-wracking? ' _Put this over your eyes and don’t ask any questions_ '," Jaskier lowered his voice, imitating Geralt’s. "Not that I don't trust you, because, believe me, I _do_ , I just don't like the whole idea of not seeing where I'm going." Jaskier fell silent for a second before chuckling under his breath. “Although I definitely would not mind some other circumstances that may also involve blindfolds and ropes among some other... interesting things. If you know what I mean."

Geralt rolled his eyes. Was he even surprised? Definitely not.

“And what if I trip over something?”

Geralt softly squeezed Jaskier’s shoulder he had been holding this whole time. "I’ll catch you. Don’t worry."

Jaskier nodded, falling silent once again.

It didn’t last long. 

"Are we there yet?" 

"Not yet."

"Okay. How much further?"

"Not far."

"Another five minutes?" 

"Jaskier." 

"Less than five minutes?" 

"If you don't shut up-" 

"Okay-okay! Alright, I’m as mute as a fish."

Geralt threw him a glance, completely unconvinced. Too bad Jaskier couldn't see it.

The clearing Geralt had found earlier wasn't that far from the village. Instead of the main road they had taken an unbeaten path to the right. It did not take long before they were there.

"Okay,” Geralt said, softly tugging Jaskier by his elbows and pulling him to stop. Geralt moved his hands up to the blindfold. “You're ready?" 

"Oh, _finally_ ," Jaskier breathed out. “I swear to Gods, Geralt, it better be worth it or I-“

Geralt removed the blindfold. 

Jaskier’s threats died midsentence.

The trees parted before them revealing a large field full of wild flowers. It was painted in different shades: from green of their leaves and dense grass around them to spots of red and white and blue and purple of the petals. But its beauty was not the reason Geralt brought Jaskier there.

The reason was right in front of them, colored proudly in bright yellow. _Buttercups_.

"Found them accidentally yesterday. Thought you'd like that." 

Jaskier opened and closed his mouth, like a fish, wanting to say something but finding no words fit. Geralt’s lips curled with the slightest hint of a smile. 

"Wow. You're speechless. Never thought I'd see the day." 

"Geralt, I," Jaskier finally found his voice, but then fell silent again. A happy little laugh escaped his lips. "Thank you. It's beautiful."

Jaskier crouched, plucking a couple of flowers. Geralt watched his hands as he carefully intertwined stalks together until the flowers were somehow holding onto one another. He tucked them behind his right ear before plucking one more and standing up.

Geralt’s heart fluttered in his chest. He awkwardly cleared his throat.

“You know, before I found it, I was thinking about something,” Jaskier hummed, indicating that he was listening, as he moved closer. “Been thinking about it for a little while if I’m being honest.”

“Yeah?” Jaskier asked as he tucked the remaining flower into Geralt’s hair. “About what?”

“About us.” Jaskier froze. “And what has been going on between us.”

Jaskier took a small step away from Geralt and turned back to the field. His hands were empty so he started twisting a ring around his ring finger.

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

The twisting stopped before resuming again.

“I don’t think I do, my dear friend. Have you noticed something strange? Because I certainly have not.”

Geralt sighed. He couldn't understand if Jaskier was playing dense intentionally or if he was just nervous.

“Surely you are not obvious to our mutual… _feelings_ about each other.”

“Feelings of deep friendship?”

“Jaskier. _Stop it_.”

Instead of turning Jaskier around, Geralt walked to stand in front of him. Finally his blue eyes met Geralt’s yellow.

“I know you like me, Jaskier,” Jaskier opened his mouth but Geralt shut him with a glare. “I _know_ , okay. I also know that _you_ are aware of _my_ own affections towards you. So stop denying everything.”

Geralt watched him, waiting for Jaskier to say something, but he remained silent. So Geralt continued:

“I know I’m not… the easiest person to be around,” Jaskier snorted. Geralt decided not to comment on it. “I’m not the most open person when it comes… comes to feelings or, or my past. I can’t express myself the way people do, the way… the way you do. All the time.

And my life is dangerous, extremely dangerous. My job, my… my _destiny_ is to hunt monsters, to kill them. And most of the time there are also people who want to kill _me_ instead, who are _hired_ to kill me or hurt people that I care about.”

“Geralt, I know,” Jaskier said softly.

“And when you first started traveling with me, Gods, Jaskier, you have no idea how frustrated I was. I was so used to looking after myself but then you appeared and I needed to look after someone else as well because you couldn’t even hold a sword or a knife, you couldn’t hunt, you couldn’t even light up a damn fire or-“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got the picture, please do go on.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you grew on me. With time. After long… long time,” Geralt’s lips twitched in a smile to show that he was teasing. Jaskier chuckled. “But, Jaskier, you are such an easy target because you are so open with everyone, so trusting. You just can’t… can’t stay away from people. My… complete opposite.

“And I’m always so worried that this time I won’t be fast enough, that I won’t be strong enough to save you if anything happens. And that’s, _this_ is the reason why I never made a move, why I never acted upon my feelings even when I knew you were feeling the same.”

“Geralt-“

“But then again… You can never run away from your thoughts and desires.”

Geralt took a step forward, leaving little space between them. Jaskier's eyes were big and extremely blue starring back at him as Geralt tenderly cupped his face in his hands.

“I’m not great with expressing my emotions and I can’t say that it’ll ever change. But…,” Geralt softly caressed his cheeks with his thumbs and Jaskier put his hands on Geralt’s wrists, “I have been thinking about everything since that night. And when I found this field full of buttercups I knew it was a sign for me to stop being a dick.”

Jaskier let out a breathy laugh. They were so close that Geralt felt it on his lips and chin. It was his chance, his last chance, and Geralt wasn’t about to waste it.

“You have to be truly desperate to approach a witcher. An absolute madman to try to befriend one. But Gods know how glad I am that you did.”

Jaskier’s eyes slid down to Geralt’s lips and back up again. “Mhm. True. How mental should you be to fall in love with one?”

“A complete lunatic.”

“Looks fine to me.”

It seemed that the world around them had ceased to exist. Geralt did not hear any birds singing, couldn’t feel a soft breeze across his face. All he saw at that moment was Jaskier. Jaskier and his eyes that reminded Geralt of the sky on a warm summer day. The eyes that changed from light to dark blue, depending on the color of his clothes. The eyes that immediately fell closed the moment Geralt started to lean in.

Jaskier’s lips were soft and warm. They felt incredibly right against his own and just the thought itself was enough to send shivers down Geralt’s arms and spine. Jaskier slid his hands down Geralt’s wrist to his elbows and around his waist, pulling him even closer to his body.

Then Geralt did what he wanted to do since that night.

He cradled Jaskier’s cheek in one hand and tangled another in his chestnut hair. His hair was smooth between his fingers. Geralt couldn’t help but lightly pull it. Jaskier moaned, opening his mouth just enough for Geralt to deepen the kiss.

Jaskier was first to break away to breathe. Geralt opened his eyes, but Jaskier’s eyes were still closed. Their foreheads were touching. Geralt couldn't understand when Jaskier's heartbeat ended and his own began.

Jaskier giggled. His face broke up in a huge grin.

"Fucking finally."

No wonder he was a poet. Geralt couldn’t have said it better himself.

✿────✿────✿

Later, that day, when they were back in their rented room lying on the bed, unfortunately still pretty much not naked, Jaskier said:

“You know what, Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“I believe that this is the most you have _ever_ talked about your feelings.”

Geralt paused, thinking. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“So. How did it feel?”

“Horrible. Never doing this again.”

“Oh, come on. I liked it. Very touching. Some parts were, I should say, quite _poetic_. Maybe I should steal them for my songs.”

“Jaskier, don’t you. Even. Dare.”

Jaskier laughed, pulling him down into another kiss.

**VI.**

At first, he thought he and princess Cirilla would have nothing in common.

Jaskier didn't have any magic tricks up his sleeves like Yennefer did. He knew shit about magic in general, if he was being honest. He wasn’t an elf, not a _half_ -elf or even a _quarter_ -elf no matter how many times people kept mistaking him for one. And although he had a magical, truly bewitching voice, and the number of his past lovers couldn't be counted on one's fingers, he was neither a siren nor a succubus. He was merely a human. Jaskier could somewhat understand what witches were capable of but from what he’d gathered from both Geralt and Yennefer, Cirilla’s powers were quite unique and unpredictable. Yennefer herself had spent some time trying to figure out the right way to help the princess to control them better. Sometimes Jaskier watched them work together. The things they could do were truly impressive.

Then, of course, there was Geralt. If Cirilla wasn’t with Yennefer, studying herbs and magical books, then she was with Geralt, practicing swordsmanship. They started out with sticks first. Then moved to wooden swords. Cirilla still wasn’t ready to wield a real one, lacking both in skills and strength, but Jaskier saw how she was improving with each passing day. One night, when he and Jaskier were resting in their room Yennefer so kindly had given them in her another temporary stolen mansion, Geralt told him that he was planning to take them both to Kaer Morhen with him — Ciri, as they soon lovingly started calling princess Cirilla, to hide her from Nilfgaard _and_ train her to be a witcher; and Jaskier because, quote: “I would never leave without you, Jaskier. You both are my family.”

So between Ciri’s magical and not-so-magical training Jaskier barely was left with her alone.

Some tiny part of him was even glad for this. After finding Ciri in the forest and then spending weeks hiding from Nilfgaardian soldiers, Jaskier didn’t have any free time left to compose new songs. And the majority of people were picky listeners. They longed for new stories, new ballads. No matter how fan favorite ‘Toss a coin’ had become, Jaskier was sure that if he sang it one more time, something heavy would surely fly towards his head.

Besides, he couldn’t teach her anything useful. _Yet_. She was still too young for the baggage of knowledge that Jaskier kept with him.

So he was fine with it. A bit upset with being left out from their group parties. Perhaps slightly jealous as well, watching Geralt and Yennefer together. But other than that? It was okay. He had songs to write and stories to finish.

Until one night Yennefer had an urgent unplanned meeting with Triss and Geralt was away, busy with another contract.

Jaskier didn’t notice her at first. He was sitting on a bench right outside the mansion, holding his lute with one hand and scribing in his notebook with another. He needed to do it quickly, before his inspiration decided to seek someone else and leave him. What can you rhyme with ‘ _forget-me-not_ ’?

“What are you doing?” Jaskier heard a voice to his left and he definitely did not jump right out of his skin. “Are you composing a new song? Can I listen?”

Ciri was standing in the doorway, looking at him with interest. Jaskier could distantly remember Yennefer instructing her to read more chapters about some magical things doing magic. The book was probably boring as hell because Yennefer had been gone only for an hour and Ciri had already given up.

“Of course! Who am I to say ‘no’ to my faithful listener,” Jaskier smiled, gesturing to the place beside him.

“I won’t bother you, right?”

“Oh, not at all. On the contrary, you can help me. If you want.” He took the lute and strummed a few notes. “Now listen and tell me what you think.”

So Jaskier sang and Ciri listened. She pointed out some weird rhymes that he had and came up with other words to fix them. Jaskier played her some of his old jigs and she laughed along with him. Needless to say Ciri never finished her reading that day. Jaskier swore he would keep this a secret and take it to his grave.

They started spending more time after that. Ciri often came to him in her free time. He played for her and asked for her opinions. She asked Jaskier about his songs, and he told her the adventures that inspired them. Sometimes Geralt joined them. Sometimes Yennefer did as well.

Turned out Ciri _loved_ music. Which, of course, shouldn’t be surprising, considering that she was a princess and grew up among lush feasts and rich balls. She told him of the bards that had come to Cintra and the songs they had sung. Jaskier knew most of them. He was bursting with pride when Ciri said that none of them were as good as him.

Most of the time Ciri asked him to play something. Sometimes she asked his permission to play herself, more out of curiosity than anything else. He showed few a couple of simple notes. Taught her some easy songs. He had never seen himself become a teacher. He had never thought that he might even like it this much.

“Like this?” Ciri asked, running her finger down one of the strings. The lute made a rattling sound and Jaskier grimaced.

“Not quite. You’re plucking it too hard. See,” he took the same note, only this time the sound was light and pleasant, “like this.”

“Uh-huh, okay, got it.”

“Careful, Jaskier,” Yennefer said slowly as she swirled her fancy wine in her equally fancy glass. “This household can only tolerate one musician at a time. You’re on thin ice.”

“I’m sure you’ll be the first to miss my melodic voice.”

Her face was blank but her voice was teasing. “Keep fooling yourself, bard.”

“What about my ravishing looks and bright personality?”

Yennefer took a sip. Ciri plucked the string again.

“Oh, this was much better!” Jaskier nodded happily as Ciri beamed at him.

“Thin ice,” Yennefer whispered to his right.

A door opened and closed in the distance. Jaskier heard footsteps approaching but did not turn around to look. They grew closer and louder until finally stopping right behind his back. A light touch on the nape of his neck sent a tingle of goosebumps down Jaskier’s arms. It stayed there for a second, a barely noticeable caress on his skin. The fingers trailed up to stroke behind his ear before sliding into his hair. His eyes fluttered shut.

“It does sound nice,” Geralt said, wrapping his free arm around Jaskier’s chest and tugging him closer.

Jaskier gave a fake gasp. “So _now_ you say that, but when _I_ play it, it’s always ‘ _can I have some peace and quiet, Jaskier_ ’ or ‘ _stop playing this song, Jaskier_ ’.”

He jumped when a finger poked him in his side.

“Alright. It's been fun, but,” Jaskier opened his eyes in time to see Yennefer stand up. She brushed off her dress, "we still have a lot to do." She looked at Ciri. “Let's go. The faster you learn this spell, the faster I will show you something _less_ boring.”

Ciri laid down Jaskier’s lute and got up, disappearing after Yennefer in the house. Geralt took her place beside him.

“I have something for you but you have to close your eyes.”

Jaskier’s face lit up with interest. “What’s that?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“Oh, come on. Geraaalt.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No. Now hush and close your eyes.”

Sighing dramatically, Jaskier closed his eyes.

He then frowned slightly when something was tucked behind his ear. He raised his hand to touch it. The thing was silky under his fingers and reminded him of petals. He untangled it from his hair.

The buttercup on his palm had a long stalk with a leaf. Its petals were shining in bright yellow. Jaskier looked up at Geralt.

“Looks like your _natural talent_ has passed itself over to me because I found them on my way back this morning," Geralt raised an eyebrow. Jaskier's lips twitched in a smile. "Just wondering how exactly it's happened. Should I blame kissing or that what follows afterwards?"

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it. Because I know for the fact that you do.”

“The kissing or the talent?”

“Both.”

Geralt smiled fondly and tucked the flower back behind Jaskier’s ear.

“It’s not too far away from here so we can go there if you want. I know how much you like them.”

The butterflies went crazy in his stomach.

“You know how to treat your man, Geralt of Rivia.” They both got up and Jaskier leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Buttercup.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so first of all I’m really sorry that it took me nearly a month to update the last chapter. I was really busy in January bc I had to defend my diploma thesis and it was my number one priority. 
> 
> Second of all, wow. Just wow. It’s my first chaptered fanfic that I've ever written and finished and I’m actually happy with how it turned out. 
> 
> When I first got this whole "buttercups in Jaskier's hair" idea it was just a bunch of situations. But then I thought it'd be more interesting to throw in a bit of plot and character development so I did. I really hope you liked it this way because I definitely enjoyed writing it!!!
> 
> I wanna thank every single one of you, guys, who have been supporting this story with both comments and kudos. I really really REALLY appreciate it, it means a lot and the reason why I didn’t have any writing blocks on my way is your support so thank you again <3
> 
> I have some other ideas already, not so grand this time but still. I have them and I can’t wait to sit down to write them. So BEWARE, my friends, fanfics are coming.
> 
> Thank you all again and I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I did enjoy writing it <3
> 
> Пы.Сы. отдельная чеканная монета человеку, который взялся переводить этот фанфик и перевод которого я совершенно случайно нашла на фикбуке азазза. Не знаю, увидишь ли ты это сообщение или нет, но, чувак, спасибо тебе, ты лучший. Привет с Украины ахах
> 
> Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian: https://ficbook.net/readfic/8962145  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked the first part! If you did, please leave a commet and\or kudos, it really means a lot xx 
> 
> I'll post the second part in the next few days. 
> 
> Also, english isn't my native language, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know so I'll fix them :)


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